Getting Freaky
by Blueberrychills94
Summary: A collection of one-shots of the many times Cato and Peeta tried, and failed, to spice up their sex life.
1. Chapter 1

Getting Freaky

Cato met Peeta at a Graduation Party. Everyone had been wasted. The usual, 'we've finished compulsory education, we're free!' sort of party that comes before the realization that everyone is now responsible for their futures hits. Cato didn't even know the host, he had been invited by a friend of a friend, all he knew was that everyone in the gigantic house had had one too many to drink and were either chugging from a beer geg-oblivious to the fact that they were probably going to pay later in hospital when their stomachs were getting pumped-or dry humping while sharing saliva. Amidst the madness had been Peeta. Gorgeous, beautiful Peeta. Sitting on a sofa, leaning against the chair arm, trying to stay as far as possible from the couple who were one layer of clothes away from having sex. He was reading a book, silently mouthing the words he was reading.

Peeta was amazing. Amongst a group of hormonal, drunk teenagers, and he was reading _City of Heavenly Fire_ instead of indulging in any of it. Cato approached him, determined to get his number before the end of the night. It worked, of course, because he was the king of charm. He swept-or so he likes to think-Peeta away from the party, explaining that he knew this amazing pancake house that no one ever went to especially not at this time of night. It would be quieter, a perfect place for him to read. Peeta easily went with him, the idea of a perfect reading spot too perfect to miss out on. He sat in that pancake house with Cato till' all hours in the morning, reading his book but occasionally pulling away with a smile on his face to talk to the man who'd been his saviour from the horrible party.

That night Cato knew that he had to make Peeta his.

Two years later, they were still together. Their relationship was healthy. Peeta went on to study law and became a police officer and Cato studied ICT and was now a consultant. With both of them having good jobs, money wasn't an issue and they had now been sharing a house for half a year. They fought, like all couples do, over simple stuff like who didn't buy fresh milk or who left their socks on the floor, never anything serious or life changing. It was clear that it was becoming more than just a boyfriend-boyfriend relationship. It was getting pretty serious. There was only one problem:

Their sex life.

It is said that a relationship's sex life is a key factor in keeping it healthy. Whether it's true or not, nobody can know for sure, but everyone who has used it as medicine for a broken relationship has said it works. Not on its own, of course. Sex isn't the ultimate fix all together. But it is a contributing factor. And it wasn't that Cato and Peeta didn't have regular sex, they did. But in the two years that they had been together, their physical relationship had been lacking a certain . . . as Cato would put it, _flare._

Now, Cato didn't mind the sex he had with Peeta. Actually, it was the best fucking sex he'd had his entire life. There had been nights when they were first together where that was all they did, spent the hours away snuggling and then fucking and snuggling and fucking. They weren't as active as that now, but still did have sex on a regular basis. There were just things Cato felt like-now that they had been together so long-that they should try to explore. Somethings new, fresh, exciting because it seemed like they were just being safe. Safe is fine, safe is good but it can get bland and boring.

He just didn't know how to purpose it to Peeta.

November 15th, near the end of their second year together, Cato sat at home while Peeta was out working the night shift. Nights like these were the most annoying because Cato loved having Peeta around. It was like he lit up the entire house just by being in it. But when he wasn't there, it was like the whole house shut down, refusing to look cheerful in any way. Another irritating thing was that when Peeta wasn't around Cato was always the most horny. Like his body knew his lover mightn't even be in a ten mile radius and was whining about it.

Cato relied mostly on his imagination then. He had a good imagination, a reliable one. He almost believed his memory was photographic, with how much he could remember of Peeta even when he wasn't around. He could conjure up any image he wanted and it helped him get through the night. It kind of made him feel like a sad sack. Sitting at home, masturbating while his partner's out working just to get through the night without bursting a blood vessel.

On this particular night, however, Peeta was late home. Cato didn't worry about it as Peeta's job caused the hours he worked to be very irregular. He only hoped that he wasn't having to sort out a riot or getting into a situation where he might get hurt. Cato did know that Peeta knew how to look after himself though, but the worry was always there whether he wanted it to be or not.

At around ten forty five, Peeta rang Cato's mobile. As he answered, Cato felt a little spike of concern, worry that something bad had happened. "Hello?" he asked.

"Hey Cato." Thank God, he sounded fine. "Sorry I'm late home. I went to visit my mother after my shift ended and you know what she's like. She had to make a cup of tea and crack open a tin of biscuits before even thinking about me leaving."

Cato chuckled. "Yeah, sounds about right. So, are you coming home now?"

"Not yet," Peeta answered. "I'm going to have a quick shower at Mum's because I was running around all night and I stink and I can't bear another second of it."

Even as he spoke, Cato could hear water running at close range on Peeta's side of the line. "Are you in the bathroom right now?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. I'm just about to get in."

Cato's heart skipped a beat and his blood heated up. Peeta was talking to him on the phone, in the bathroom, about to get into the shower, probably wearing nothing else but one of his mum's cream towels around his waist. "You're naked right now?" he stupidly asked.

"Well, not exactly," Peeta said.

"Towels don't count as clothing."

A pause.

"Okay then, I'm naked."

_Oh Lord Jesus in heaven._ Cato swallowed hard and pressed the phone harder against his ear. The opportunity was right there to spice up the relationship, do something crazy and uncontrollable. "Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what would be fun?"

"When you start things with questions like that, things never go well but go on then," Peeta answered. Damn, he knew him too well. Oh well, he'd just have to do as he said and go on.

"I've been missing you all night," Cato continued, trying to lay on the pity thick before getting to the point. "I've been missing your voice, your laugh, your touch . . . your body"-

"Is this your way of telling me you're incredibly horny right now?" Peeta asked.

"Painfully so."

"Man, Cato, your stamina amazes me."

Cato supposed he was saying this because before he went out on his shift, they'd had sex twice on their bed. But cleaning sheets can be exhausting and when Cato was tired enough he'd always get horny. It was like his body's rule or something. "You should know it's wild by now," Cato pointed it.

Peeta laughed. "I do," he said. "Well, what do you want me to do about it? I'm across town!"

"Give me an aid," Cato explained. "To help me . . . you know."

"You want a photo, is that what you're saying?"

"If it is, will you be mad?"

Peeta didn't answer for a moment, obviously thinking it over. "You have to delete it immediately," he said. "I don't mean later on, I don't mean tomorrow, I mean as soon as you're finished you get rid of it, okay?"

Cato sat up straighter. "Of course." He hadn't actually thought Peeta would do it. A second later, Peeta hung up. It didn't take him long, in fact his mobile buzzed less than three minutes after. At least he wasn't leaving him hanging by a thread. Cato opened up the photo file that had been sent to his inbox and almost died at what he saw.

Peeta knew him all too well, knew the sort of thing that would help get him going. Most people would just snap a quick pic of themselves in the mirror but Peeta was more committed than that. Peeta's mobile has this waterproof covering, something he had gotten after many clumsy drops into glasses of water and even once down the toilet. This enabled him to take it into the shower with him. He must have propped the phone up on the taps and put it on flash after five seconds. He stood with his back turned, so Cato had a perfect view of his strong back and plump ass, and was looking over his shoulder with a lustful expression that oozed, _'Come take me.'_ Cato was almost positive that Peeta had been a model in another life. Impressive for under three minutes.

He could visualize getting into the shower with Peeta and pushing him flush against the cold tiled wall. Biting the shell of his ear gently, feathering his hands down his wet sides until they met at his inner thighs, which he would gently part and stroke with his thumbs. Teasing Peeta was very easy, the poor boy got worked up over anything, and soon he'd be trembling in Cato's arms, anticipating what was to come. But Cato wouldn't give it to him yet.

Instead he'd turn him back around and kiss his chest, gentle caresses of his lips that he'd only be able to feel gently swiping his skin. Cato would hold his wrists against the wall as he took a soft pink nipple into his mouth, sucking on it until his lover moaned loudly for him. He'd rub the other soft peak with his fingers, making sure it got just as much attention, before descending lower until his mouth was level with the younger boy's cock.

"You want this?" he'd purr, making sure to blow his hot breath against Peeta's hardened length.

Unable to find words, Peeta would nod mutely.

Cato still wouldn't not give it to him and would inside turn him back around. Now his face would be level with what had to be the world's most perfect rear. He would bite down on one of Peeta's soft cheeks, smirking on when he yelped, and stand up again. Once again he would push him against the wall, this time sliding his pointer finger along the cleft of his ass in a teasing manner. Peeta would squirm and whine, begging for Cato to just give it to him.

Finally, Cato decided he would.

Cato had just taken his painfully aching cock out of the prison of his jeans when the mobile rang again. Was it Peeta asking if the photo sent alright?

"Hello?"

"Cato?" Peeta groaned.

"Peeta? What is it?"

"I need you to get to mum's."

"Why?"

"I slipped in the shower and she can't hear me calling her."

Shit. Cato took a forlorn look at manhood, which was begging to be relieved, but Peeta was in trouble and needed him. It would just have to wait.

At Mrs Mellark's house, Cato found Peeta lying in the bath with a sheepish smile on his face. He'd managed to grab a towel and had it draped decently over himself. "Hello!" Peeta said, welding his eyes shut immediately with a groan of agony. "What brings you here?" he joked.

"Peeta," Cato said, kneeling by the bath. "What hurts?"

"My pride?"

"No time for jokes. Seriously, I need to know how to help you out."

Peeta rolled his eyes. He hated making a fuss. "I think I broke my collarbone," he answered.

Cato took Peeta's hands and gently pulled him out. Peeta bit his lip hard and fought not to make a sound. Cato examined his collarbone and concluded that it was probably broken. He'd have to take him to the emergency room. Grabbing a nightgown, he helped Peeta into it before taking him to his mother-who was hovering nearby's-room and eased him into his clothes.

Mrs Mellark made a big fuss, claiming it was her fault which Peeta had to keep telling her it wasn't. He couldn't walk, because the slightest movements killed, so Cato carried him out to the car like a bride and groom crossing the threshold of their new home. Peeta rested his head comfortably against Cato's chest and Cato hoped to God he couldn't hear his panicked heart. The idea of Peeta being hurt always unseated him and he hated having to see him in pain.

"Did the photo help?" Peeta mumbled.

Cato smiled and nodded. "It sure did," he lied.

Okay, not the best first start. But there were plenty of other chances to get wild.

**A/N: Due to the recent situation with the leaked photos on icloud, I was weary about posting this as my first one-shot for this collection. But I have never seen anything wrong with taking pictures like these for loved ones as long as they're kept private. If someone is comfortable enough with their own body, I think it's a wonderful thing for them to appreciate it with their partners, especially since it was done in the privacy of their own homes, some of the photos even having been deleted. I hate what has happened to those poor girls because of that lifeless hacker, especially since one of them is my role model Jennifer Lawrence, and I hope the sick pervert gets a long time in prison once he's caught.**

**#wesupportjlaw**

**Please put this hash tag with any comments you leave. It's to show your support for Jennifer and the other celebrities, saying that we don't blame them, we blame the hacker. Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews! **

Chapter Two

One of the best things about being married to a police officer is the uniforms. Peeta's first day at work, after passing his exams with flying colours, he had left early so Cato hadn't seen him. But when he got home that day, he nearly had a heart attack. There is nothing more unresistable than a man in uniform. Peeta barely got six words out of his mouth before Cato took his hand and dragged him to the bedroom. Yeah, the uniform had to get ironed after that night.

Peeta sometimes took Cato out on the job with him. It surprised Cato how laid back he could be, he had expected his partner to be constantly on alert, prepared to launch into police mode if any crime were to be committed. The first time Cato had ever seen Peeta be his professional self, they had been walking down the Seam road, a seemingly calm area, talking about what they were to have for dinner later on. A teenager had been trying to hijack a car by sticking a wire through the window to try to hook the lock open. Peeta had left Cato, telling him to stay there for a moment, and approached the kid. He had this way of being able to ooze authority while also acting like whoever he was about to approach wasn't in trouble.

The teenager had been difficult and tried to pick a fight with Peeta. He thought that he could take him on since he was only one police officer. Cato had almost ran in to interfere when the first swing was taken, but didn't have to as Peeta easily grabbed the boy's arm, pulled it up his back and pushed him against the car he had been trying to steal. There was something incredibly hot about Peeta in officer mode. Cato couldn't wait to get him home again that night to . . . erm . . . iron his uniform.

They found out that Peeta's collar bone had only been bruised and healed again within two weeks. He took Cato out on the field again on the third day after being deemed healthy enough to go back out. Cato had decided to tell Peeta about the 'spicing up the sex life' idea while they had been wandering about the streets. "So what you're saying is that you think our sex has gotten boring?" Peeta asked.

"I think you're totally missing the point," said Cato. "What I'm really saying this that I just think that we should explore some different things we've never tried before."

Peeta hooked his thumbs in his pockets and frowned thoughtfully. "I let us do it on the bedroom floor," he said.

Cato laughed. "Wow Peeta, you're crazy," he said. Peeta gave him a scowl that could burn through steel. "The bedroom is very safe, you know? What I'm trying to say is that we should try something wild."

"Like the photos?" Peeta asked. "Were they your idea of 'wild'?"

"You mean photo," Cato corrected.

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Did you like the photo, or not?" he asked. "Because if you're going to complain about petty details like that, I might tear up that copy of the picture you printed out. You deleted the one on your phone, right?"

"Of course I did," Cato laughed. "I don't want anyone else finding that."

"You're not the only one," said Peeta. He smiled and tapped the antenna of his walkie talkie. "Okay, so, tell me, what sort of things were you thinking? What would 'flare up' the relationship?"

Cato let his eyes trail down his boyfriend, always having been willing to admire the way his uniform hugged his frame. Peeta didn't like being oggled, one of the reasons-he explained-why he wanted to be a uniform. He'd thought that the many layers he had to wear would have stopped Cato and, annoyingly, others, from staring at him. Which, of course, was wrong. Because the uniforms were very dashing and fitting. It just made people stare all the more.

"I don't know. A variety of things," said Cato. "I can't really say right now because you're on duty and it might be deemed inappropriate, officer."

Peeta laughed. "You could try, but I might have to arrest you for sexual harassment," he teased, patting the belt loop were his handcuffs hung from.

"That doesn't sound too bad, actually," Cato flirted. "Although, I think it's about time you found out what it's like to be handcuffed with your own cuffs."

Peeta snickered. The glow from the streetlights reflected off his blond hair and made it shine gold. Cato could never take his eyes off Peeta. He was a siren, he always captured attention no matter what he was doing. It was a gift, a gift he wasn't aware of having. Cato wanted to wind his arm around Peeta's shoulders but he couldn't, because he was still on duty. That was the only thing that held him back from going out with Peeta when he's working. He couldn't touch his boyfriend in any shape or form while he's on duty. He didn't know why, it was some sort of rule or something.

"You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?" Peeta rolled his eyes.

"You're damn right I would," Cato replied. The thought alone was enough to make his heart speed up. Peeta spent nearly every day of his life putting people in cuffs, it did seem like a wonder that they had never thought to bring it into their sex life before now. "Those pretty little wrists of yours could do with a little chafing."

"Watch it Mister," Peeta warned, pretending to be stern. "Or I might have to take you downtown."

"Oh yeah?" Cato raised his eyebrows. "What will you do if I do this?" The coast was clear enough, no one would complain if he took a little risk. He grabbed Peeta's belt and tugged him forward so their lips met in a kiss. Peeta's mouth never changed. His lips were two soft petals, perfectly sculpted to fit against Cato's own. He smelled like cinnamon from baking that morning and tasted of it as well. "Is that your gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

Peeta scoffed. He stood back and adjusted his belt. "Don't start. Not now. I'm off duty in twenty minutes. Think you can behave yourself until then?"

"On one request," Cato said.

"And what's that?"

"Let me take you to a club."

"To do what?" Peeta laughed. "If I walk into a club like this people are going to think I'm here to bust them for taking drugs."

"Or they'll just think you're in fancy dress," said Cato. He knew Peeta had never really been a party person but if he pressed hard enough, he knew that he would give in since he's a submissive creature who'd easily give in. "Very sexy fancy dress."

"Behave," Peeta repeated, feigning being dignified. "Still on duty."

"Would you rather I keep it in so much that it all just comes out in a rush the minute you're off duty?" asked Cato.

Peeta narrowed his eyes. "Better than me losing my job," he said.

Cato supposed that was right. So they walked the streets together for the next twenty minutes. Nothing happened and Peeta was signed off within the half hour. Cato managed to stay professional inside the station, rocking back and forth and keeping his mouth shut. He had reached his boiling point by then, however, and couldn't wait to take Peeta to a club. Instead, as soon as Peeta walked out of the station, he grabbed his arm and yanked him into the nearby alleyway.

Peeta yelped, the sound silenced by a hard kiss. He immediately recuperated, however, and kissed back. The kiss was messy, all lips and tongue and teeth. Cato took the initiative and pushed his boyfriend against the wall, pressing himself against the length of the smaller blond's petite yet surprisingly strong, body. Peeta parted his legs to allow him to get closer to him, moaning in appreciation when their hips met, crotches rubbing against each other.

Cato started kissing Peeta's neck, pushing his hands underneath the younger boy's shirt. Peeta had two weak spots: his nipples and his ass. Manipulate any of those and he would be putty in your hands. Taking advantage of this knowledge, he slid his palm over the curve of his lover's plump butt and squeezed it. "Fuck Cato," Peeta moaned, gasping for air.

Cato bit at the skin between Peeta's neck and collarbone, feeling himself getting harder at the sound of his voice coming from Peeta's mouth. He claimed Peeta's lips again, absorbing the small sigh the smaller boy released. He groped his way to the front of his lover's pants, taking the bulge into his hand and rubbing it. Peeta groaned, eyes fluttering shut, squirming helplessly against the wall.

"When's your next shift?" Cato murmured against Peeta's lips.

"Monday," Peeta moaned, struggling to get the word out.

"Good. Because we're going to have to wash this uniform once we're finished with it, officer," Cato purred. Peeta released a sound which was a mixture between a moan and a yelp. He always got turned on when Cato called him officer. He was just about to unbutton Peeta's shirt to expose his chest and torso to the cold air and his lips when the walkie talkie went. "That thing's still on?"

"Of course it is," Peeta replied. He stepped away, slightly disheveled, and spoke into the walkie talkie. Cato didn't catch most of the details but what he got from it was that something serious was happening downtown and they needed Peeta. "I'm sorry," his boyfriend apologized as he straightened himself out.

"Don't apologize, it's your job," said Cato with a smile.

Peeta tsked and kissed Cato's cheek. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Whatever you want, just tell me and I'll do it."

Cato grinned. Sounded sweet to him. He watched Peeta leave, unabashedly staring at his tight ass the entire time. He immediately began thinking of what he could make Peeta do for him as punishment for leaving.

Punishment . . .

Maybe it could be exactly that.

As Cato walked home, he hacked into some free wifi and typed in four words:

**Ideas for Punishment Kinks.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! If you haven't figured it out yet, this story really is just a load of smut but I try to add little bits of plot in **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Three

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Trust me, right now I do."

Cato couldn't keep a straight face, he honestly couldn't. He knew that this was his idea and he thought he had been prepared for it but it turned out that he was far from it. Peeta, however, wasn't finding anything amusing in the slightest. He was having a serious issue with discovering even a hint of humour with the situation.

"You did say that you'd make it up to me, didn't you?" Cato teased.

"I didn't mean this!" Peeta exclaimed. He sat at the top of the bed in a huff, arms folded in defiance and bottom lip sticking out in a moody pout. He was wearing a pair of black underwear and nothing else, par Cato's instruction. The only thing was that these weren't run of the mill cotton boxers that Peeta was used to, these were made of a silky material that hugged his package at the front and was nothing but a string at the back. Hence why he was sitting at the top of the bed, surrounded by pillows, and refusing to move.

The best part of the whole thing was the fact that his police hat sat on his head, wore askew and tilted forward so it covered his eyes a little. Cato was in awe of how effortlessly sexy his boyfriend was at all times. It must be a superpower.

"Are you backing out of your word?" Cato teased.

Peeta scowled. "No," he muttered. "I just don't see how this is going to benefit you in any way, that's all."

Cato laughed. "Are you joking?" he said. "There's plenty of ways this will benefit me. I think you're just shy."

Peeta looked horrified at the very idea. "I am not shy, that's not the point. What I'm trying to say is that there's so many other things you could get me to do. Why not do something that might benefit you longer? Like do the dishes for the week or bring you breakfast in bed every morning for a month?"

Cato pretended to consider it. "Nope, I'd still choose this."

"What do you want me to do then?" Peeta asked. No matter how much he denied it, it was obvious he was shy. He'd always been bashful about his body. It took them six months before they first had sex and it had been Peeta's first time. Cato was proud to say that he owned Peeta's virginity as no one else could ever take it from him, even if they broke up (which neither could see happening any time soon).

"Get off the bed for starters and stop hiding behind the pillows," Cato answered.

Peeta begrudgingly did what he was told and slid off the bed, grumbling about how he should have listened to his mother and became a monk because then he wouldn't have to go through such abuse. Cato's mouth watered at the way the silky panties lovingly hugged his partner's manhood and could imagine closing the distance across the room, ripping the underwear right off and sucking Peeta's cock until he came so hard he forgot where he was. But Cato wanted to pace things out, so it wasn't all over in a second.

He did, however, close the distance. Peeta fidgeted on the spot. His eyes were unsettled, moving anywhere with the exception of Cato. The visor of his police hat was tilted so he used this to his advantage and bowed his head forward, a sheepish smile on his face. The light from the lamp complimented the pale complexion of Peeta's skin, giving it an almost prominent shine. Cato felt a pang in his chest. He loved every inch of Peeta, inside and out. It doesn't take a lot to recognize the depth of inner beauty and, while having a gorgeous face and body, Peeta's inner beauty went all the way to the center of the earth.

"I feel ridiculous," Peeta finally admitted.

"You know how much I adore your ridiculousness, it's incredibly hot," Cato flirted.

Peeta flicked the visor up, revealing his bright blue eyes. "I'm sure you're just dealing with it," he said flatly.

"Ha ha," Cato answered flatly. He drew Peeta toward him and captured his lips in a deep kiss. Peeta closed his eyes and sighed in content, wrapping his arms around Cato's neck. His mouth tasted like everything good in the world and every tiny press was like a fresh spark of electricity to Cato's system. Peeta pressed his body against Cato's and wound his arms around him. Cato licked his way past his boyfriend's soft lips and lightly caressed his bare sides. Peeta moaned, shivering in expectation, and slid his hands underneath Cato's t-shirt. The younger boy's hands were warm and the feeling of them against his torso made Cato moan in appreciation.

Cato suckled on Peeta's soft neck and pushed his body against him with a strong hand on the base of his back. Every tiny whimper that came from Peeta's swollen lips went straight to Cato's crotch, turning him on so badly it was almost painful. He pulled away and reluctantly stepped back, smirking in entertainment when Peeta whined in protest. Hair ruffled, skin ruddy, Peeta looked gorgeous. Cato's heart sped up in excitement as it was clear that his boyfriend knew he were about to be fucked hard.

"Cato," Peeta whined. "Please."

Cato climbed onto the bed and settled himself against the pillows. Peeta watched him curiously, unsure about he was to do. Cato waved the younger boy over, smiling when Peeta immediately did what he was told. They had set roles in the bedroom. Cato was always more dominant than Peeta, having naturally always been that way. Of course they occasionally switched it around, which was nice, but it was clear that they always got the most out of what they were most comfortable with. Which was Peeta being the creature of submission he was likely to always be and Cato being his dominant self.

"You better not make me ride you," Peeta muttered. He paused, mid crawl, and met Cato's eyes. "You're not going to make me ride you, right?"

The story behind why Peeta didn't like riding Cato was an interesting one. It was really one of the miniscule times that they had done something a little different. They had been at Peeta's parents anniversary dinner, celebrating their 36th year together. Peeta had been a lightweight and had only drank two beers, which had made him pissed out drunk. He made the move on Cato that night and straddled his waist, insisting that he was coherent enough to manage to get through it. It had been amazing, mind blowing even. Peeta had been phenomenal for someone who was drunk but had ended up falling off of Cato and hitting his head off the bedside table. Thankfully, nothing had been severely wrong but he had sustained a concussion and hadn't wished to ride Cato since then.

However, Cato still believed that Peeta had it in him.

"Not right now," he honestly answered. He took Peeta's hand and pulled him into his lap. Peeta relaxed a little, letting his head fall against Cato's shoulder. Cato lightly traced the line of the thin silk panties with his finger, practically salivating at the idea of slowly peeling them off. "I think you should arrest yourself," Cato mumbled, nuzzling his head into the crook of Peeta's neck.

"Why's that?" asked Peeta. He lifted his hand and softly stroked Cato's cheek with his fingertips, his breathing hitching when the older man grazed a particularly sensitive spot with his teeth.

"You're causing me great distraction," Cato purred, slowly pulling one side of the panties down over Peeta's hip, teasingly revealing more of his delicious skin. "And you're responsible for an uprising in my pants." Peeta burst out laughing. His amusement was cut short, however, when Cato squeezed his manhood. He gasped in surprise, his hips bucking upwards in shock. "I'm serious, you could be in some trouble."

"I'm sorry, officer." Peeta put emphasis on the last word, knowing how it always struck him when Cato said it to him in the same way. It worked. Cato felt the word go straight to his blood, whatever was left of it anyway that hadn't gone south. "Is there anything I can do to get out of this trouble?"

"There are a few things," Cato answered. He hooked his thumbs into both sides of the panties and tugged them off, allowing Peeta to take the initiative and kick them off when they reached his ankles.

Completely naked, the shyness kicked in. It was rather remarkable how they had been together for so long but Peeta still felt uncomfortable being completely undressed in front of Cato. No matter how many times he encouraged him or told him how beautiful he was, Peeta just couldn't admit to himself that there was nothing wrong with it. He had a few scars from accidents on duty but they didn't affect how he looked at all. They were a part of him and Cato loved that.

Peeta sheepishly crossed his knees, burying his face into Cato's neck in embarrassment. Cato smiled and kissed his boyfriend's neck lovingly. "You know the whole, trying new things thing?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Peeta mumbled.

"I want to try something new," Cato explained. He had been thinking about this for a while and, with his gorgeous partner trembling in his lap, in his most beautiful, baring form, he couldn't think of a better time.

Peeta tensed a little at his words. "What is it?" he asked wearily.

"I want to eat you out."

Peeta pulled his head out of Cato's neck and focused on him with a confused frown. "What? Isn't that a woman thing?" he demanded. "Unless this is some fancy way of saying blowjob which isn't very new at all and I don't see why you'd ask since we've done it numerous times before and"-

Cato put his finger on Peeta's lips to stop him babbling. "Honey, you're getting off point," he told him.

Narrowing his eyes, Peeta said, "But you see my point."

"I do but it's not a blowjob," Cato explained. He trailed his fingers along Peeta's thigh, close to his crotch but not quite, and basked in the tiny shiver he got in response.

"What is it then?" asked Peeta, still unsure about the idea.

"I'll show you, if you let me," Cato replied. "But you have to trust me."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I trust you," he said.

Cato smiled. "Good." He slid down the bed a little so his head rested on the pillows and guided Peeta up a little so he was nearly sitting on his face. "Grab the headboard for support."

"Okay." Peeta's voice was shaky with nerves and sexual arousal and he did exactly what he was told. Cato grabbed his hips and drew him closer, excited to hear the sounds that this would hopefully make Peeta release. Going as slow as he was physically able to allow himself, Cato parted his lover's plump cheeks with his tongue and took a tentative lick of his hole. Peeta gasped and almost jumped off the bed in surprise, and probably would have if Cato hadn't been holding onto his hips.

"It's alright," Cato assured him gently, kissing the small of his back gently before resuming what he had been doing before.

It took Peeta a while to relax, Cato could feel how tightly coiled his entire body was against his own. But he was persistent and kept at it, finding it a little more difficult to map out where exactly his boyfriend's sweet spot was with his tongue than it would be with his fingers. He was still enjoying himself though as every now and then Peeta would squeak in surprise and squirm a little on top of him. While Cato tried to find the sweet spot that would make things ten times better, he reached around himself and grasped Peeta's cock, forcing himself to stay focused and not slip up when his partner yelped loudly in surprise.

It wasn't long afterward that he found the little bump that held all the secrets to Peeta's true pleasure and started spelling out the alphabet on it. He learned that online it's the best way to do it. Spell the alphabet out on the sweet spot with your tongue.

Peeta melted, his arms clutching the headboard for dear life as he fought to hold himself up. He was a mess of hot moans and gasps, every noise going straight to Cato's own arousal, which was straining against his underwear. Keeping one hand on Peeta's penis, which he pumped slowly to increase the delirium he was causing his lover, Cato grabbed his own cock and started touching himself to Peeta's own pleasure. Nothing turned him on more, really. Except maybe Peeta touching himself which he had heard sometimes behind closed doors of bathrooms but had never really witnessed firsthand.

Cato could sense Peeta getting close and tried to speed up, bringing himself closer to the edge at the same time.

Except it went wrong.

It had been snowing the previous night and the neighbour kids spent most of their time in the streets at night playing with snowballs. Just as they had been so close to orgasming, one of the offending snowballs whacked the bedroom window and scared the living daylights out of Peeta. Having been immersed in an ecstasy induced state, the loud thump scared the crap out of him and he jumped off of Cato and fell off the bed with a bang that beat the snowball thump out by a mile.

"Peeta! Are you alright?!" Cato exclaimed, struggling to his knees and looking over the side of the bed at Peeta.

"I'm fine," Peeta groaned. He hauled himself up onto his feet and sat on the end of the bed. "My god, I hate those kids."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to dislike them too," Cato replied, glaring at the window in anger. It was clear that whatever they had been planning for tonight was over and that they were just going to spend the rest of the night snuggling. Stupid kids ruining the moment. Now, Cato didn't mind snuggling, snuggling was great, but when you're trying to be adventurous in bed and everything seems to be against you doing it, things do get quite frustrating.

"We can try again some other time," Peeta smiled, all hopes and encouragement.

Cato smiled back. "Don't worry, I intend to."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Cato sat on the windowsill, looking out at the fresh blanket of snow covering the front yard. There were no footsteps on it, as it had snowed afresh the previous night. Peeta was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. Cato could hear the scrubbing and the occasional spitting out. "You know," Peeta called in from the bathroom, "I think that it's going to snow for the next few weeks. I think we should stock up on necessities just in case we get snowed in."

"Yeah," Cato replied. "Maybe we can go down the street tomorrow." It was nearing nine o'clock but the sky was still surprisingly bright. Peeta came into the bedroom, still talking, but Cato was only half listening. He was too busy admiring the beauty of the wintry landscape before his eyes. Peeta was probably only rambling about things they'd have to do tomorrow anyway.

"Are you even listening to me?" Peeta demanded.

"Huh?" Cato asked, not turning around.

"You're not listening," Peeta concluded.

"Of course I'm listening baby, I always listen to you," Cato replied.

Peeta rolled his eyes. He folded his arms angrily and glared at Cato. "Sorry, am I boring you?" he asked.

"Of course not, babe," said Cato. Sometimes his mind did tend to wander when Peeta would start rambling. He wasn't doing it because he was being rude, it was just because his mind could have ADHD moments.

"I bet if I was stripping off, I'd have all of your attention," Peeta said.

Cato snickered and turned around to face Peeta. "I'm not that shallow," he said. "I'm wounded that you'd think I am."

Peeta quirked an eyebrow. "So if I did this." Peeta pushed the sleeve of his shirt down, lifting his shoulder and peering over it and fluttering his big blue eyes. "And said, 'Cato, I need you to take out the trash.' You'd ignore me?"

Okay, so he had him stuck. Peeta certainly had his full attention now. It wasn't because he was superficial and only cared about his boyfriend's looks but he couldn't help how enthralled he could be by Peeta when he acted so sensually. Cato wanted to lie but he knew that Peeta would be able to spot it a mile off. The younger blond wasn't allowing him to get off lightly, however, and was still standing with his sleeve down his shoulder. Urgh, damn him and his gorgeously pale complexion.

"Will you take out the trash, Cato?" Peeta purred.

"Urm . . . I'll get on it," Cato replied.

Peeta rolled his eyes and gestured at his body. "You're not getting any of this tonight," he said. "Just so you know."

"No! That's not fair," moaned Cato.

Peeta tsked and shrugged. "Your problem," he said. "You need to start listening to me!"

"I do listen to you, trust me," Cato said. "Sometimes I'd just drift off."

Peeta pulled up his sleeve and rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh," he replied. He climbed into bed and threw the covers over his head. "It might be nice to get a decent night's sleep without you groping me in the night."

"You make me sound like such a pervert," Cato chuckled. He got off the windowsill and slipped into bed beside Peeta. Despite the obvious lack of sex they were to have that night because of Cato's inability to keep focused on one thing at a time, when he got into bed Peeta immediately nestled himself into his chest. Even though it was freezing outside, both of them together warmed the entire bed so they couldn't feel it what-so-ever.

"Well, if the shoe fits, handsy," Peeta teased.

Cato laughed and kissed the top of Peeta's head. His hand was resting on his boyfriend's hip, the tips of his fingers skimming the waistband. He lifted the quilt for a moment and frowned. "Are you wearing my boxers?"

"Yeah, and?" Peeta mumbled.

"They're huge!" Cato exclaimed. "How are you not drowning in them?"

"I tied an elastic to the back," said Peeta. "I like wearing things that belong to you."

"Since when?"

"Since we got together." Peeta nuzzled his head into Cato's chest and dragged the quilt back down to cover them again. Cato couldn't believe he had never noticed that before. Surely he should have saw Peeta wearing his underwear. "In the beginning I just did it after sex because it always comforts me."

Ah, that was why.

Cato was touched that Peeta liked to wear something of his for comfort. Of course, he did notice when they were first dating that Peeta walked around after sex drowning in one of his t-shirts but he had never thought that it was for comfort. Now he couldn't get the image of Peeta in one of his t-shirts out of his head. He still remembered the first time they had made love and how he had woken up to Peeta cooking breakfast for them both in the t-shirt he had been wearing the previous night and nothing else. In a way, Cato missed those days but it was exciting how they weren't at the point of everything being new everyday between them.

Obviously, however, that was something he wanted to alter a little because they were still trying out new things.

"Hands."

"What about them?" Cato asked.

"One is just fine where it is on my back but the other has somehow ventured down to my ass." Peeta lifted his head and quirked an eyebrow. "Do you even know that you're groping me or does it just sort of happen?"

Cato realized that his hand had slipped a little and was cupping Peeta's behind. He grinned and kissed his boyfriend's forehead. "It's because you're so damn irresistible," he said.

"Uh-huh," Peeta muttered, clearly unimpressed. He let his head fall back onto Cato's shoulder and closed his eyes. "Let go whenever you're ready."

"What if I'm never ready?" Cato asked.

"Don't be ridiculous. Let go."

Cato grinned. "Don't tell me not to be ridiculous. It could be completely feasible. Your arse is just too damn touchable." He emphasized the point by squeezing Peeta the way he knew he liked. The younger boy closed his eyes and moaned tiredly.

"Stop it you perv," he muttered.

"I thought you liked it when I touched you like this," Cato teased.

Peeta lightly slapped Cato's chest. "Don't start, I'm knackered."

Cato nestled his nose in Peeta's hair and hummed. He was a little sleepy himself but it was like his mind was being lazy but his body was still wide awake. His hands were everywhere. He'd sometimes be like this when he and Peeta had been busy all day but what was strange was that they hadn't done anything particularly strenuous that day. Maybe his hands were just unsettled.

"You're very unsettled tonight," Peeta mumbled. "Is there something on your mind?"

"No, weirdly enough," Cato said. "You're just . . . looking very good tonight."

"Cato Hadley: born charmer." Peeta tugged the quilt up some more and sighed in content. "Well, sorry, I don't have the energy for anything toni-will you quit groping me? I swear to God, your sex drive is exhausting."

"But you love it," said Cato. He kissed Peeta's temple and hugged him closer to his body. "I know you're tired, we'll go to sleep." He shook his hands out and internally pleaded with himself to behave. _Come on guys, I know Peeta's incredibly sexy and he's pressed up against me and he's using his sleepy voice and he's in my underwear and . . . what was my point again?_

"I'll make it up to you later," Peeta sighed. "I promise. If you want we can do that thingy. The new things thingy. Whatever you want to attempt next, we'll do."

"Okay," Cato grinned. "I'll hold you to that. Let's just hope we're a bit more successful this time. Our luck so far hasn't been so great."

"We've been fine," said Peeta. "Just a few minor distractions."

"It's like the universe hates the idea of us being adventurous."

There was no response as Peeta had already fallen asleep.

~xXx~

The next morning, Cato woke up first. Underneath the covers were extremely toasty, having been warmed by the two bodies who had laid there for hours. Normally, the first thing Cato would be aware of would be Peeta's body lying either on top of or beside his own, but this morning he felt nothing. The bed was still completely warm, so Peeta had to be there somewhere, or else it would have been cold on one side.

When Cato turned around, he saw that he was right, Peeta was still there. He lay on his stomach, face buried in his pillow. Cato could just see his partner's face, eyes peacefully shut and soft lips parted to release gentle rushes of breath. Cato smiled. He reached out and brushed some of the scruffy golden hair back, showing off as much of the beautiful face that lay underneath as possible.

He rolled over and pressed a kiss against Peeta's cheek. The younger boy barely stirred, sleeping like a log. There could be a holocaust outside and Peeta would sleep through it. This caused Cato to wonder how much it would actually take to wake his partner up. He kissed his face again, which once again coaxed no reaction. Feeling a little adventurous and maybe still a bit horny from the previous night, Cato kissed Peeta's ear, carefully folding the lobe into his mouth when the result was still unsatisfactory.

Okay, time to get out the big guns.

Cato licked the spot below Peeta's jaw, biting the skin gently with his front teeth. It was the most sensitive part of the smaller blond's body, so it wasn't surprising when it finally woke Peeta up, drawing an annoyed moan from his parted lips. He reached out blindly and pushed against Cato's face. "Where's the snooze button?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Sorry, there isn't one," Cato said, batting Peeta's hand away when he squeezed his nose.

"Are you sure?" Peeta poked Cato's cheek. "I'm sure there's something there."

"If you're not careful you're going to poke my eye," said Cato. "Stop it."

"Let me sleep," Peeta sighed, nestling his face into the pillow.

"You can sleep all you like. I'll just stay here and watch you sleep," said Cato. He wound his arm around Peeta's waist and pulled him closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the side of his neck. Peeta made a gentle humming sound, letting his head roll give Cato more space.

"You know, if I wasn't up for this right now then I'd accuse you of taking advantage of the fact that I'm antsy in the morning," Peeta said. Cato laughed, pretending that he hadn't known this, and pressed a kiss against his boyfriend's lips. Peeta's lips were always soft, no matter where they were or what they were doing. Like two silky rose petals that Cato could kiss all day. "It'll have to be quick, I'm on duty in a few hours."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," Cato teased. Before Peeta could come up with a smart remark, he took his bottom lip into his mouth and tugged on it teasingly. Peeta rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back the soft moan the action caused. "Here I was wanting to take my time and worship your body and you're telling me that I need to hurry up!"

"Worship my body?" Peeta said flatly. "When have you ever worshipped anything?"

"Excuse me Mr Mellark I have worshipped you on numerous occasions," Cato replied, pretending to sound offended.

"Oooh, really?" Peeta replied.

Cato mimed being shot in the heart, making Peeta laugh. "Just shut up and let me kiss you some more."

Peeta scoffed but lifted his head to allow their lips connect again. It's hard to say how long they just lay there, making out. Cato had never been all that good at time keeping, especially when he was in an intimate moment with Peeta but he knew that he had to at least try, since Peeta would be on duty in an hour and he wanted to get _something_ out of the time they had before he had to get up.

Clothes were quickly discarded and thrown onto the floor. They had somehow ended up switching positions while they were making out, Peeta now lying on top of Cato. Cato could feel Peeta shivering under his hands, the biting winter air biting at his naked flesh. Even the quilt wasn't much use, despite the fact that it was extra thick and claimed to be thermal.

"Are you cold?" Cato asked, not in a teasing manner, more out of worry.

Peeta shook his head defiantly. "No," he said. As if contradicting himself, he grabbed the covers and tugged on them from where they had fallen to the bottom of the bed so it covered them again.

Cato couldn't deny how much he loved how Peeta would say one thing but mean something else completely, just so that he wouldn't seem weak. In his eyes, Peeta was far from weak. He went out every day to enforce the law, despite the consequences and the fact that he was practically stamping a huge target on his own forehead.

Physically unable to hold back his smile, Cato grabbed the back of Peeta's neck and pulled him back to him for another kiss. The smaller boy sighed into Cato's mouth, supporting his weight on his elbow and threading his fingers through the older's hair with the other. Cato stroked his gorgeous boyfriend's back with his fingertips, teasingly allowing himself to caress the bottom of the boy's spine.

The soft caresses caused Peeta to squirm on top of him. He had never been on top-Cato was used to caging Peeta's smaller body underneath his own-before but Cato had to admit it was probably one of the hottest things he had ever witnessed. He could feel Peeta's excitement against his stomach and knew that if the younger boy pushed himself down in an inch then he was going to accidentally penetrate himself without any prep.

Speaking of prep . . .

Cato pulled away from the kiss to slip his fingers into Peeta's mouth. Peeta licked at the digits like a lollipop, holding contact with Cato the entire time. God, it was unholy what those beautiful blue eyes did to him. He removed his fingers from Peeta's mouth and claimed the lips that he always envied again as his own.

When he pushed the first finger into his boyfriend, the squirming increased. Peeta moaned, separating his legs and losing his composure. His kissing became a little sloppy, especially when Cato added another finger, but the perfect little noises he released were worth it. Cato loved being in control and he knew Peeta liked it too. When you spend the whole day in control, it's nice to relinquish it for a while, especially if you have a job like Peeta's.

"Ngh-uh, Cat-Cato," Peeta moaned loudly, his hips rutting up against Cato's. The action made Cato see stars, blissful sparks of light exploding before his eyes. "Mmgh, please hur-hurry u-u-u-up."

"Your wish is my command, my love," Cato purred, removing his fingers and lining himself up with his partner's waiting entrance.

He was seconds away from pushing in when the phone rang.

They both groaned in unison. Peeta collapsed against Cato in defeat, making no move toward the phone, and Cato had to answer it himself.

"Hello?"

"_Hello, is Officer Mellark there?"_

Cato resisted the urge to groan. "Yes, he's here."

Peeta grabbed the phone, struggling to ignore his crying libido. "Hello?" he asked. Cato watched his lover's face carefully while he spoke to the person on the other line, knowing almost immediately that he was getting called in early. Why did they always call Peeta? Why not someone else? Well, he sort of knew the answer to that, he just hated it so much. The police force relied on Peeta because of his honest, hard work and he would always be at the top of the list of people they'd call in early if they needed help.

When Peeta hung up, he groaned and threw the phone off the bed. "God, I hate them!" he shouted. He reluctantly rolled off Cato. "I've been called in early."

Cato rolled his eyes. "Who would've thought?" he said sarcastically. Peeta looked at him apologetically but Cato assured him that it was okay by smiling. "Go on then, better get ready for work,_ officer_." Peeta laughed but the sound turned into a yelp when Cato smacked his ass. "Go on, stop dilly-dallying."

"Shut up," Peeta chuckled, disappearing into the bathroom.

Damn. Was the universe against them having sex? Cato threw a pillow over his head and flopped backwards onto the bed. Stupid police force.

Stupid, stupid police force.

**A/N: Please R&R with thoughts! ^_^**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Cato and Peeta stood side by side in their front lawn, heads tilted in curiosity. They were ankle deep in snow, the white fluff knawing at every available piece of skin and cutting through their clothes like a knife. The sky was a turquoise blue and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Perfect winter weather. Thankfully, the neighbour kids weren't around with their deadly snowballs, but that was maybe because of what they currently stood staring at.

"Well, that's new," Cato broke the silence by saying.

"Indeed," Peeta hummed in response.

Across their front door, the word, 'FAGS' had been spray painted on the wood. Neither Cato nor Peeta were bothered by the offensive language. It was one of those things you encounter in life that can't be helped. If you get bothered by it then you'll spend your whole life being bothered. What would the fun in that be? Their biggest worry was getting enough fairy liquid to create an appropriate amount of suds to get it washed off.

"So, what do you think? New kids on the block or the children from hell taking another jab with their pointy pitchforks?" asked Peeta.

"I'd say pitchforks," Cato answered.

"You're probably right." Peeta waded through the snow to get a closer look. "Oh look, they even signed their initials in small print. JL. Who the heck is JL?"

"Isn't there a Jade or a Jack or something who lives around here?" Cato asked, pushing through the snow to join Peeta on their porch. "Their mum or dad's a vicar or something?"

"Oh yeah, the Looney's. No, their uncle's a priest." Peeta gave Cato a sidelong glance and mouthed, _"Religious nuts." _Neither of them had any particular views towards religion but when the tainted children of hardcore Catholics spray paint profanity on their door at night when they're sleeping it's difficult to be sympathetic.

Peeta huffed a thoughtful breath. Cold, white air puffed out, almost like he was breathing out a cloud. He rubbed his arms over his duffel coat thoughtfully and muttered, "I suppose I should get the fairy liquid out."

"I'd wait until the snow lifts," said Cato. "It's too cold to be standing around trying to scrape off paint. Your fingers will fall off and then my fingers will fall off trying to reattach your fallen fingers."

Peeta laughed. "But what about the word? Do we really want that on our door until this blizzard lifts up?" he asked.

"Better than losing fingers," shrugged Cato. He rubbed his hands together, the woolen mittens his sister sent having tiny holes which the cold seeped through. "Besides, people passing through should know about the hoodlum population in this estate. Especially if they're considering moving here. I'm not ashamed of who I am, so the word isn't really a problem for me. Is it for you?"

"Not at all," said Peeta. He blew into his hands to warm them up. "They're lucky I'm not prosecuting them for vandalism."

"You'd think they'd be smarter than that, wouldn't you? Spray painting the door of a police officer's house while also signing their names at the bottom as a copyright," Cato said.

He knew from the beginning that Peeta wouldn't prosecute. The neighbour kids were just something to be dealt with. Putting a court hearing over their head wouldn't make them any nicer to live with and Peeta wasn't prepared to be responsible for making children homeless by applying for them to be evicted. He was too nice that way.

"You know what we should do? We should spray paint the Looney's door. Write something like 'uncooked noodles'," Cato suggested.

Peeta gave him a funny look. "Uncooked noodles?" he repeated.

"Yeah, cuz' they're hard and straight," said Cato. "Or is that too hard to decipher? Maybe just 'straight assholes'. That would get the point across just fine."

Peeta rolled his eyes. He picked up the garden brush, which leaned on the porch railing nearby, and brushed some of the snow off the floor. "You can do what you like but I'm not going to risk losing my job just to spite some kids. Besides, I'm not too keen on the idea of prosecuting you either, Cato."

"Oh, you know, it might be fun." When Peeta looked at Cato incredulously, he explained. "It could be like in the movies. Where I'm on death row and you're my kind-hearted officer who asks me what my final wishes are. I'd tell you I want to make love one last time and-because you're the kind hearted officer-you allow me to ravish you in my cell."

"Wait, so you're on death row just for spray painting the Looney's door? Jeez, that's kind of harsh," Peeta replied.

"That's what you picked up from the story?"

"Well, I got the rest as well but it sounded strangely familiar. Oh yeah, it's in that porno 'Banged Up.'"

Cato raised his eyebrows. "You've seen that?" he asked.

Peeta shrugged, suddenly intensely focused on sweeping the snow. "I may have watched it with a previous boyfriend," he muttered sheepishly.

"Hold on, you watched porn with a previous boyfriend?" Cato exclaimed.

Peeta dropped the brush and looked at Cato in exasperation. "Say it a little louder, the Looney's didn't hear you from their house at the end of the road," he said.

Rolling his eyes, Cato took Peeta by the elbow and pulled him into the house. It was warmer inside, the fire blazing away in the sitting room. They shook the snow off their clothes and started peeling off their coats and woolies. "Why did you never mention this relationship that was so strong you could watch porn together before?" asked Cato.

Peeta pulled off his hat and stuffed it onto the radiator. "It never came up," he said. "It's not like anything major happened anyway. I was a virgin when we met, there was no doubt about that, I swear. A previous boyfriend just used to rent out cheesy porn movies because that's what got his motor running."

"The twat couldn't see that you were enough to get any motor running?" Cato scoffed. "No wonder you're not together anymore." He shrugged off his coat and hung it up on hook.

"It wasn't like that," said Peeta. "He just . . . It's complicated, alright? The relationship's over, we haven't spoken in years because we parted on bad terms and it doesn't matter anymore."

"It if doesn't matter then just tell me," Cato said.

Peeta rolled his eyes and violently shook down his coat. He hung it up beside Cato's and started walking to the living room so he didn't have to look him in the eye while he explained. "He used to get turned on by watching me touch myself to porn films. It was always kind of awkward and it was more for his sake than my own because he always orgasmed and then never bothered with me."

Cato couldn't imagine not making sure Peeta got to finish. In fact, he always made sure the younger boy finished first, as seeing his face twist and his body arch in pleasure was always what helped him along to his own end. It was that guy's loss then, since he never bothered to make the effort to be graced with such a glorious sight.

"No offence but he sounds like a knob," said Cato.

"He was, kind of. That's why I broke up with him," answered Peeta. He sat down on the sofa and curled up on the side closest to the fire. "I swore after that that I'd never get intimate unless I was sure I loved the person." He smiled at Cato. "Which makes you the guy."

"And how lucky I am to be the guy," Cato replied, nestling beside Peeta and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Peeta nuzzled into Cato's side and sighed. "So . . ."

"So . . . ?" Peeta prompted.

"If I had ever proposed something like that, would you have done it?" asked Cato.

"Um, probably. If you told me that's what did it for you," said Peeta.

"Anything to do with you and your sexy body does it for me," Cato flirted. Peeta bit his lip with a smile, the sight catastrophically teasing. "Not even your body, sometimes. Your eyes can speak a thousand words."

Said rolls rolled sarcastically. "I doubt that you can get turned on by my eyes alone," Peeta said.

"You would think so but that's actually untrue." Cato took Peeta's chin between his fingers and drew his face closer to his own. Studying his face and eyes, he said, "Although, if you considered putting on some dark black eye liner it'd really make them stand out."

"Black eyeliner on blond eyelashes? Are you having a laugh?" demanded Peeta.

"You're right. You're sexy just the way you are." Cato pecked Peeta's lips and smiled.

"Uh-huh, okay."

"It's true!"

"No, other guys are sexy. Like you or that guy Gale who fixes the sink when it clogs up. Not me. I'm awkward and lanky." As to emphasize the point, Peeta wiggled his arms around before sighing and blowing a raspberry. "If there's a point as far away from sexy as humanly possible, I'm there and then some."

Cato rolled his eyes and pulled Peeta closer. "Lies," he told him. "All of it, complete lies." He kissed Peeta again, threading his fingers through the younger boy's silky gold hair and holding him tight against his body. "You know I hate it when you talk like that."

"But I'm only telling the truth," Peeta protested.

"Okay, stand up a minute." Cato stood up and pulled Peeta up with him. He sat back down and beamed brightly at Peeta when the younger boy quirked a curious eyebrow. "I'm going to tell you everything I see right now."

"Shouldn't be too hard. Living room, fireplace, fire in the fireplace, couch, rug, coffee table,"-

"Are you being purposely ignorant or are you nervous about what I'm going to say?" asked Cato.

"I'm not nervous. I am completely nervous-less," replied Peeta, folding his arms defiantly. "If I were any less nervous, I'd be jelly."

"Good then. Tell me what you think is unsexy about yourself."

Peeta answered instantly. "My feet, for starters."

Cato's eyes trailed all the way down to Peeta's feet, which stuck out awkwardly at two different angles. Peeta always stood with his toes turned inward, so his ankles stuck out at both sides. "You stand like a blushing school girl and you have no idea how hot that is to me. So you're wrong about that. Next one."

"Uh . . ." Cato's response had thrown Peeta off a little and it took him a moment to figure out what to say next. "My knees. They're knobbly."

"Pff, they're not knobbly. Besides, it's cute the way they tremble when I kiss your neck." Cato felt his lips twitch at the thought. Peeta only thought his knees were knobbly because they were a little bony when he was younger and he thought it followed him into his adult life.

"I do not tremble. When I'm cold, I shiver," said Peeta.

Cato rolled his eyes. Always argumentative. "So you're always cold when I kiss your neck then?" he challenged.

Peeta muttered something unintelligent under his breath. He kicked up a corner of the carpet sheepishly. "Probably. The bedroom isn't very well insulated."

Cato found it endearing how Peeta was always stubborn but when it regarded things such as denying himself the power to admit how much of a beautiful, sexy man he is it was a little difficult for Cato to swallow. "So if I kissed your neck right now, you wouldn't tremble?"

"I mightn't," said Peeta, jutting his chin out defiantly. When Cato started to stand up, Peeta backed up until his back bumped against the fireplace. "Okay, you stay right there. I don't need to prove myself to you."

Cato grinned in triumph and sat back down. "Go on, tell me the next thing. I'm pretty sure I can disprove them all," he said.

Peeta fiddled with his fingers as he thought about it. "I don't have a six pack like you," he said, looking pleased with himself, as if this was something incredibly important towards being attractive.

"You don't need it." That was the only answer Cato could give. Peeta didn't need huge muscles or six bumps on his abdomen to be beautiful.

Peeta looked like he was becoming frustrated. He ran his fingers through his hair and puffed out his cheeks. "My butt sticks out too much."

This made Cato laugh. "Now you're just scraping at the bottom of the barrel. Don't get me started on your butt. It'll take too long."

"But it does!" Peeta insisted in frustration. He look over his shoulder at his backside and pulled a face. "I hate it."

Cato stood up again. Peeta watched him with worried eyes as he approached him at a leisurely pace. "Your butt does not stick out too much, it is just right." In a single movement, Cato swooped down and pulled Peeta up and over his shoulder. Peeta yelped in surprise and squirmed a little in the hold. Cato headed for the stairs. "I could write poems about your ass, it's that perfect."

"Now you're just over exaggerating."

"I've got the adjectives ready. Soft, plump-that one's my favourite-tight, muscled, curvy, perfect," Cato listed, "and many more, if we had enough time."

"You seriously spend your time thinking about adjectives to describe my butt?" Peeta asked flatly.

"You obviously haven't had to sit through a three hour lecture on hard drives," said Cato. "And don't get me started on the different ways I daydream about what I can do to it. There's rubbing, cupping, pinching, grabbing, slapping, spanking, massaging, or the just the good old grope."

"You have way too much time on your hands," said Peeta. He squeaked when Cato patted his rear in an almost friendly manner. "You should write fanfiction, since you can come up with so many verbs for something so mediocre."

"Mediocre?!" They'd reached the bedroom by this point and Cato pulled Peeta down so they were eye level with one another. Peeta wrapped his legs around Cato's waist for support and hooked his arms loosely around his neck. From the blank expression he was receiving, Cato guessed Peeta didn't realize what he had just said. "How can you call the ass fondling part of sex mediocre? You obviously don't know how to appreciate it."

"You're kidding, right? It is mediocre. Kissing and stuff, now that's important," replied Peeta.

"As true as that is, I can't help but remember the time you came in your pants when I wouldn't stop groping your ass," Cato teased.

"That didn't count, you were rubbing me up the wrong way as well," protested Peeta.

"You mean like this?" Keeping one arm firmly wound around Peeta's back, Cato slipped his hand between then and squeezed the younger boy's package through his trousers. Peeta's eyes fluttered and he pulled a face.

"Stop it, it's too early for that," Peeta muttered.

"Since when have you had a sex clock?" asked Cato.

"It's midday! You can't have sex during the day, it's weird!" exclaimed Peeta.

"Since when?"

"I don't know! Isn't it a rule or something?"

Cato rolled his eyes and scoffed. "There's no rules for sex," he said. "And anyway the fact that I've had to convince you that you're sexy has made me what to make you feel it too. Which I can't do unless you let me rip your clothes off and make you see stars."

"Oh wow, Cato, the romanticism is overwhelming!" Peeta said sarcastically.

Rolling his eyes, Cato walked over to the bed and none too gently let Peeta fall on top of it. The smaller boy fell with a yelp, nearly bouncing off onto the floor because of the springs in the mattress. "Don't get sassy with me. I'm the King of Sass," Cato declared. He grabbed Peeta's ankles and tugged him back towards him, leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss against his lips.

"I could out-sass you any day," Peeta responded. He tried to pull Cato down for another kiss but frowned when the older man stood up. Peeta tried to get up as well but Cato grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the mattress. "Is this your way of expressing your anger towards my obvious naivety towards the act of ass groping?" Peeta asked. He watched carefully as Cato grabbed a scarf that had been on the floor and used it to tie Peeta's wrists to the headboard of the bed.

Pleased with his handy work, Cato straddled Peeta's hips and kissed him again, so hard the force pushed him down into the pillows. The younger boy made a small sound of content between their connected lips. As he drank Peeta in as much as he could, Cato's hands crawled underneath Peeta's shirt to touch the flushed skin that lay underneath.

Peeta purred at the feeling, the sound incredibly cat like. So much so that Cato paused and smirked at his boyfriend, who was blushing furiously. "Not one word," the younger boy threatened.

"Whatever you say, Whiskers," Cato replied. Despite the novelty of it, Cato actually wanted to hear the sound again. His fingers crawled along the smaller blond's lean body, smoothing down his ribcage and over the faint bumps of his abdomen. When this only coaxed out a tiny moan, Cato went in for the kill and slowly circled his finger around his boyfriend's sensitive nipple.

"Ngh-Cato, don't do that," Peeta mewled, screwing his eyes shut and tugging against his restraints. He didn't really want Cato to stop, despite what he had said, and pushed his chest up a little, almost in offering. An offer Cato couldn't refuse.

Taking his time, Cato caressed both of Peeta's tender, rosy nubs, gauging and absorbing every reaction it pulled out of him. He loved how he could have shut an effect on such a beautiful person and he thanked whoever was watching over him for giving him such a perfect boy to love and cherish. When he decided that Peeta had suffered enough, he dragged his tongue down the line between his abs, relishing the deep moan and bowed body it produced.

"Catooooo," Peeta whined. He rutted his hips as Cato dipped his tongue into his navel and nipped at his hipbones with his teeth. Sliding his hands up the younger boy's thighs, Cato made a grand gesture out of sliding his hands underneath and squeezing his ass. Peeta tried to hide his reaction, biting down hard on his bottom lip and making a reserved squeaking sound, but Cato knew the effect it had on him. It was one of his tender spots, after all.

Cato pushed himself back up to be eye level with his gorgeous, flushed boyfriend. Peeta's eyes were wide with delirium and he graciously accepted the heated kiss Cato provided. Passionately making out, Cato slid his hands back down Peeta's chest and abs before hooking his fingers into the button of his jeans. The younger blond shuddered and lifted his hips, a silent message to hurry up. Cato chuckled and unhooked the button, sliding the zipper down and removing one layer of restriction that confined his boyfriend's arousal.

His fingers were dancing dangerously along the waistband of his lover's pants, prepared to dive in, when the doorbell rang. Trying to ignore it, Cato kissed Peeta's neck, trying to enjoy how the younger boy squirmed at his teasing. "Cato," Peeta whispered.

"What?" he mumbled against Peeta's neck.

"The door."

"I heard."

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

The doorbell rang again and Cato groaned. He hauled himself off the bed and stood up. He glanced at Peeta, who was waiting expectantly to be released from his bonds, and made his way to the door. "Cato!" Peeta shouted.

"What?" he replied, turning around at the door way.

"Untie me!" exclaimed Peeta. He tugged at the scarf, as if Cato wasn't sure about where exactly he was tied up.

Cato smirked. "I think I like you better like this. All you need is a gag and it would be the perfect arrangement." He spun on his heel and left the room.

"Cato Hadley get back here right now! Cato, I'm not joking around!" Cato tried to muffle his laughter and he jogged down the stairs. "CATO!" Peeta sure was loud, his voice could travel through metal. But he'd shut up fair and quick when he opened the door, lest whoever will be standing there know that he was currently tied down to the bed upstairs.

Annoyingly, the person at the door was Clove.

"I need to borrow your hiking socks," she said, walking in without being invited.

"Why?" Cato frowned.

"I lied to a guy at a supermarket and told him I loved hiking. Hopefully it will be worth it because he's pretty fucking sexy, trust me. If you weren't with Peeta I'd probably have thought of you for him instead of myself," said Clove. She headed for the stairs and was half way up before Cato realized where she was going.

"Clove, wait!" he shouted.

"It's okay, I don't care if I see the undies you leave lying on the floor!" she replied. Cato winced and ran after her, only reaching her side once she'd turned the door handle and pushed inside. "HOLY MOSES!"

Cato grabbed her arm and pulled her out, the sound of the door shutting followed by Peeta screaming, "CATO I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Clove creased up laughing, sliding to the floor and smacking her knee. "Ohmigod!" she laughed. "Priceless!"

"Forget everything you saw in there," said Cato, pointing at the shut door. "That's for my eyes only, not yours, mine."

"Oh shut up Cato!" Peeta shouted.

"So how did you bribe him into letting you do that?" asked Clove. "Promise not to grope him for a month? No sex for two weeks? Who am I kidding, you can't make promises like that, you probably tricked him." She grinned goofily. "It's a rule of thumb, however. If a guy lets you tie him down then he's there for you for life."

Cato frowned. "What?"

"It's true," Clove shrugged. "I knew you guys were serious but I didn't think it was that serious. You're one lucky man, Cato."

Even though half the time Clove was full of shit, Cato actually smiled at this piece of knowledge. "I'll get you your hiking socks."

When he entered the room-making sure to shut the door so Clove didn't see anything-he was met by something wonderful. Peeta had somehow managed to wiggle out of his pants and underwear during the conversation with Clove. He was sitting provocatively, with one leg crossed over the other. When Cato entered the room, he quirked a sultry eyebrow. "There for life, huh?" he asked.

"Seems so," Cato grinned.

"Well, you better get her her socks," said Peeta. He smirked and twisted himself around so he lay on his stomach, so his perfect plump ass was on display. "Or I might get started without you."

Cato never pulled his sock drawer out fast enough before in his entire life.


End file.
